A Woman Martyr

tyrant, instinct guided her. After Victor Mercier had put her into a cab, and she had alighted from it in a thoroughfare near her uncle's house, she let herself in with the lat

espaired. Perhaps she would have utterly and entirely lost heart, had no

t once afterwards before he absconded and disappeared, and that was in the very spot where their interview a few hours before had taken place, she believed, indeed she knew, that for her to try to undo that knot would entail publicity-

oses to renounce me"--in her ignorance of the law she fancied that Victor Mercier might divorce her quietly in some way, if he pleased--"proposed that

ty of a strong, virile nature, she knew. Whether the love was mad enough

is hopes that his only niece and adopted daughter and heiress was thinking better of her aloofness to mankind, and melting in regard

twelve, noon, do no

ond Street. She went to her room and spent some little time in deciding upon her toilette. How did she look

icacy and fragile helplessness in her appearance, would place Vansittart more entirely at her mercy; but it was with this conviction that she attired herself in a white, soft, silken and lace-adorned tea-gown, with lace ruf

ts, being one which was to remain a secret from "his parents in France" until they had seen Julie, and therefore subject to mysterious "evenings-out" and holidays taken, with other explanations to the housekeeper. Altogether there was a certain softness about her whole appearance, Joan cons

host of letters. She had barely finished three before a brougham dashed u

e musical, resonant, manly tones she loved--and in another moment the groom of the chambers announced, "Lord Vansittart," with an assurance which seemed

ow with passion; some suggestion of a conqueror in his mien--his very fervour and exultation were infectious--she cou

nd cast down her eyes as he said: "I am early--I could not help it--Jo

d him to one out in the cold--but he would not understand--he drew a light

--you cared a little for me,"

l!" she bitterly said. "

my love, all--I am yours, body and soul!--what can come between us if you love me? And you do! I know you do! I feel you don't wa

ago my uncle was hard, cruel to my parents: they literally died, half-starved, because he would not help them. When he adopted me I did not know this. I had some work to accept his kindness after I did know. But never, never

he cried imperiously. His compelling grasp closed upon her wrists. "Joan,

the appeal, the yearning in his face--and he, he watched the struggle--and as she gave a little sob, which was virtually a cry for mercy, he dr

of bliss she might have imagined, weakly, but had never felt in

and clasping his knee she leant her

as you like! I don't care a fig for your uncle--at least, as regards what he can give you--I have enough for you and a family of brothers